Some people have all kinds of complaints with life and I am one of them. I sometimes feel I cannot ever get enough from life and this makes me rush every minute after the lust of getting more. And in my same attitude of garnering more I have spent years running and working as a relentless robot and somehow the driftness of life has taken away my emotions too. The usual mornings the same nights and same years- my life has became devoid of emotions.
It was the Monday morning of June and I was woken up by the sudden door ring. It was the milk man at the door. I slept late last night so I found it hard to get up. But I had no other choice. The milk man would not stop ringing until I would get the milk. He acted as my Alarm.

I was walking lazily towards the door and as soon as I opened the door I was amazed to see a group of neighbors gossiping. I called milkman in and started enquiring. He told me that the Mr. Banerjee living next door was taken to the hospital early morning.
I was surprised as I saw him heal and heart when I was going to a nearby Bar last evening. On further enquiry the milk man told me that he had severe pain in his stomach early morning and had to be rushed to the hospital. I took milk and closed the door. As soon as I closed the door I heard the sound of the door opening. A Sikh family lives next door and I could hear the Sardar ji uttering something in punjabi. I was too far to understand what he was saying, so i came closer to the main door. I could see the Sardar ji in a white vest and pajamas through the magic eye of my door. While enquiring about the incident he was busy applying fixo to his beard.

Then came his wife with his two children dressed in school dress. She rushed her children down the stairs as they were already late and their school bus was waiting for them.

I too started with my daily routine and preparations. I went in the balcony to brush my teeth. I could see the Chhole Bhature wala parking his cart. He was always at his place by 8:00 am. One of his companions had already washed the plates to serve the freshly prepared Chhole Bhature. He was famous for his pickle which the served along with the Chhole.
It was a regular sight for me, seeing people waiting for him to start off so without paying much attention to it I went straight into the room to find out what was ready to be worn. I saw nothing.

And I also knew the reason. I did not have my iron repaired. I had to do that last evening, but I forgot.

With little hesitation I opened the door to borrow it from the Sikh family. I rang their home bell and Sardar ji came out while tying his turban. I greeted him and asked for the iron to which he smiled.
He handed me the electric iron and softly whispered "Did you know what happened this morning". I like a small innocent child said "No". To which he asked me to come into the house. I had no way to go, so I entered.

Soon after I entered I saw Sardar ji's wife packing lunch for him. Sardar ji started off by describing me every minute detail as if forcing me to go to the hospital to meet him. I did not wanted that so I quickly and cleverly changed the topic to food. Sardar ji was a foodie and talking about food and dishes was his favorite topic.

As I was getting late so I sought his permission and stood up from the sofa. I quickly ironed my clothes and went to work. I came back in the evening I was informed by the guard that Mr. Banerjee died in the hospital. I felt bad and closed my eyes a recited a short prayer. He was no doubt a good human being and helpful person. This elder son was my good friend. He was also elected as the president of the society and there was almost everyone who knew him.

But to my surprise I did not saw many people who had gathering outside his flat to pay condolences. I quickly entered my flat and closed the door. From my balcony I could see Mrs. Sharma asking Mr. Sharma as to which sareer to wear.